Wednesday, September 29, 2010


For a series of unavoidable reasons, there has not been an opportunity for us to have an intense physical time together in a very long time.  I don't know what to call it - i don't even know what euphamism to use.  But it comes down to pain.  Now I find myself very nervous about it.  If or when we are able to return to this, will i be able to?  How will i respond?  Was I crazy before?  Is this something that sounds good in my head, but in reality - well - what if it just plain hurts and that's all?   

I don't understand my body's response to pain - and even less so do i understand what happens in my head with it.  Not just with it - but now - without it.  It does feel like an addiction.  I don't (or didn't previosuly) think that I have an addiction prone personality.  Even chocolate is fairly moderated.  But pain I crave.  I want a fix, I dream of it, fantasize about it, feel my body and my mood go through withdrawal the longer I go without.  This isn't just not normal, I've come to terms with not normal.  But is it really an ok thing?

This makes me uneasy - I don't want to dress up a physical addiction to flooding my body with very nice neurotransmitters in a lot of fancy terms, and justify it by incorporating it into a new marriage dynamic.  The eventual outcome to that is too easy to predict.  Seeing it this way, the obvious choice is to walk away altogether, like refusing that first cigarette; quitting now is always easier than quitting later. 

On the other hand, is this a deeper part of myself?  Will i/would i function better if this part of me were addressed and developed?  Would it actually enhance our dynamic?  Is it what it feels like - a very strong and concrete expression of our differences, our duality, a way to both need and satisfy need, a form of communication, a way to connect, to establish and re-establish our relationship? 

There is the thought that this isn't my place to wonder, it's up to him.  I should have or not have, do or not do, whatever he decides.   Except that that isn't who or where we are - he wants to know my thoughts and feelings and reactions and fantasies.  Then he will decide.  But this thing - I really don't know and don't understand. 

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

if only i could hold onto it

All those different things I described in my last post, that submissive feeling - I really wish I could find a way to hold onto it. 

When he is out of town, I still handle all the things I need to handle, all the day to day stuff.  My routine and caring for my children, our home, my work, all still are seen to and taken care of.  Except for sleeping - I don't sleep when he is gone, and I am not a person who functions well on little sleep. 

But out of sight is indeed out of mind and his influence, his control, my feeling of balance and of being connected to him very much wane as he is gone.  I become a different me, in charge and efficient, businesslike and busy, even and especially with him when we do talk on the phone.  I end up being not particularly nice or loving, and certainly not submissive. 

I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I am so much better off with his control of me, with my needing him.  And I do wish I could float along in that very contented, slightly erotic, at peace, and submissive state of mind all the time.  In this case though, I believe that I need to find a way to keep myself pointed the right direction. No one can live in the sunshine and daisies all the time.  I need to remind myself that he is still who he is and I am me and our relationship is what it is, no matter the geography.  And I need to then act that way. 

Sunday, September 19, 2010

that submissive feeling

Actually, I think there are a range of feelings I would say are submissive feelings for me, and I crave all of them. 

There is the shy, inward, warm, enveloped feeling I have when I stand in front of him with my head bowed into his chest.  This feeling draws me to him inexorably and feels like a flow of energy between us.  Small gestures throughout the day recall this feeling in a smaller way: putting his hand over mine or holding my hand as he drives, coming up behind me and holding the back of my neck just so, touching my face...

There is a similar feeling when I first see him after some time apart, or maybe when we are finally alone after being so much in the larger world.  It is tinged with nervousness or anxiousness, not anxiety, but anticipation, a sense of hopefullness, but not for anything specific.  It is the promise of being able to reconnect with him. 

There is a submissive feeling that comes from him caring for me, paying me attention or doing things for me.  This one is sometimes still a little uncomfortable.  It feels good to be cared for and I melt into it, but there is a small voice whispering that I shouldn't let him, or he shouldn't be doing that. 

Then there is the pussy clenching, heat rising, chest tightening feeling.  Maybe it's not submission, but it's certainly related.  It's not the same as arousal exactly, or maybe it is, just moreso.  It happens of course in obvious contexts: as he pushes me to my knees in front of him, or turns me face down on the edge of the bed; in fastening the leather cuffs; and as I wait in the position he likes, naked and exposed and available.  He can call up this feeling in me most anytime with just a whispered comment or veiled allusion.

But the same feeling comes from smaller, seemingly non-sexual sources: when he asks something of me, in that moment that I see the challenge and it's implications; being given a task, no matter how small, that is clearly just for his whim or desire, not for any purpose outside the two of us; and doing very small things that carry a great deal of significance, things that are so difficult because of their meaning, things like calling him Sir.  These produce a jumble of arousal, rebellion, quiet shyness, desire to please, and almost overwhelming desire to be close to him.  In short - I think, most of the elements of that submissive feeling.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

sum or integrate?

My husband has a nasty case of poison ivy right now - or poison sumac, or poison something.  It's over most of the parts of him that weren't covered by shorts and t-shirt.  Most significantly, it's all over his hands.  He won't touch me, at least not there, or there; maybe there - just enough to apply something pinchy, you know - for fun. Of course, I can (will, do) see to his needs - no poisn ivy there!  The result of course is a fairly well satisfied (if a little itchy) him, and a crawling out of my skin, very wanting, un-satisfied me. 

We have also had an even longer lull in the time since we have been able to play.  Well - I call it play - sometimes it is playful and a really pleasant degree of pain, sensation, manipulation, etc.  At other times it is much more serious physical submission for me. Of course it is also sexual, but it is an awful lot more - as I am learning. 

We are starting to figure out the connections among the physical submission, and the sexual, and our everyday beings and interactions.  I think there is a lot more to explore and to learn about this, but we're starting to see it. 

Being frustrated sexually, being horny,  makes me a bit edgy and a little hyper and at the same time distracted.  But, like so many other contradictions in this whole thing, it also makes me feel controlled, cared for, useful and submissive. Not surprisingly, it makes me want to be near him, to touch him, to be intimately in contact with him.  Paradoxically, sex and being sastisfied sexually also make me feel closer to him and to want to maintain that contact. 

The edginess that comes from lacking physical submission is different.  It spirals and feeds on itself.  It sows doubt: self doubt and doubt in us, doubt in his interest.  It distances me from him, makes me want to avoid him.  It makes me move away from a submissive stance with him, often to an unpleasant or outright confrontational stance.  This impacts both of our moods as well as our interactions and thus the whole family. 

Over the past year we have explored a lot of new things.  We have slowly added elements to our lives and to our dynamic, or - as we added elements, it started to become a dynamic.  It started with my submission and his domination as an effective way to revive our sex life.  We added further ways to express that dynamic physically, then added ways to extend that to our interactions out of the bedroom.  I have to believe we will continue to add, and probably discard, elements as we go. 

I think though that at this point, we need to also find ways to integrate all the elements.  As it has become more and more apparent that all the elements impact all the aspects of our lives, it seems like we should try to take advantage of that. 

Saturday, September 11, 2010

why do i have to make it so hard

Why does it feel like it has to be hard to count - to be real?

I was talking with a friend recently about why i stumble over the things i do, why some things are so hard for me to learn or why others aren't. Ironically, one of the things i have trouble accepting is that this doesn't have to be so hard.   When we have periods in which we are struggling, or it takes more work on my part to do my part, that feels right, feels like i think it should feel.  It's when things are humming along easily and we are deeply content, at peace, and doing my part feels natural, that I start to get uneasy. 

On one level, there is a part of me that feels that something is only worthwhile if it requires work, the harder it is to accomplish, the more work it takes, the more worthwhile it must be.  So i get caught in loops of making the interactions between us complicated and challenging and effortful; that way, they must be more meaningful and thus better.  It also means I earned it, I deserve the resultant success. I think my husband would argue that making our interacting as simple and streamlined and unified as possible would allow us to apply the effort and energy to the challenges outside of ourselves.  For me - I've always had trouble with the KISS principle. 

On another level, sometimes it hits in me in the face how dependent i have become on him.  I'm not dependent on him for survival or my day to day functioning or even higher level things, but emotionally I am very tied to him. When it strikes me how much i need him, want him, miss him, crave him, how easily i become out of balance without him, i get very scared. 

That is what is difficult, being so dependent on him for my emotional center - this makes me back off and part of backing off for me is finding different ways to serve, to do this thing, ways i come up with, ways i think should be the right way.  The ways i think it should be done are more challenging, more difficult, and, most importantly, they take the focus off of me and let it be on my actions or what i do or don't do.  They don't require openess or vulnerability from me; they certainly shift the roles - from me depending on him to him relying on me - and that is where i am comfortable.

As my friend put it to me...
what if I called him Sir and he called me girl and told me I was good and used me sexually and sometimes beat me for my own good or his fun. What if I handled all he wants me to do with grace and efficiency and presented a well run home and family. What if he took care of me, touched me, loved me and made my life easier with his containment and presence. What if all that happened and I just accepted it... what if

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

The "Sir" thing

One of the things about myself that I have told my husband is that I sometimes feel a strong desire to call him Sir. I honestly don't know how he feels about this, or would feel about it if i did.  His family was not formal and didn't use that honorific, even for grandparents.  Although he has taught our boys to use it appropriately in the larger world, they only use it at home, for him, if they sense they have crossed a line far enough that they need  any redemption they can muster.  I don't think he would have ever considered my calling him Sir, it just isn't part of his cultural vocabulary that way. 

For me, at times, it burns in my brain, but i can't get it out of my mouth.  It feels silly, or young, or contrived and artificial, or well - honestly, maybe more openly submissive than i can do. It has come now to feel like a scene in a tv show or movie -where one character wants to say "i love you" but has thought about it for too long, looked for the right time, completely overanalyzed it, so that it now has more baggage than actual meaning in her mind. 

It isn't a thing that has to be done - if he wanted it - I think he would say so.  Our communication has become more respectful and I find myself less and less prone to angry or snarky responses, even when I'm upset.  I'm not perfect (yet), but I am not niave enough to believe that i couldn't be angry or snarky even using the word "Sir."

If he were to demand it or even ask for it, i imagine i could do it.  I imagine it would clear things up, remove the mental blocks, and it would be done.  On the other hand, I also imagine that there would come times that it would be done somewhat grudgingly. Which means that it is all up to me - it will (or won't) happen because of what I feel or the meaning I attach to doing it.  I guess I need to figure that part out, or let go and just see what happens. 

Friday, September 3, 2010


I know I'm not unique in this at all - but telling my husband my most intimate feelings and desires is very, very difficult.  I was able to bring my initial curiosity about (overwhelming hunger for) D/s to him via IM because it is fast, blunt, and keeps him at a mental distance.  He was in fact also physically 1000 miles away at the time, a fact that helped my courage, I'm sure.  Since then, we have worked to find a system of communication that works.  We have not been entirely successful.

I wouldn't have thought it could be so difficult - although the fact that i instinctively wanted to find a way to put my thoughts and feelings on paper or in a blog should have been a clue that some part of me knew that saying hard things face to face is just much harder. Clearly - he did realize that.

I gave him access to my emails, facebook, and chats (i can talk about why another day), and he does read this blog; he says he likes to keep tabs on my general frame of mind.  We have a private blog for more intimate, difficult or new things that come up.  It is one-way: I write to him, he may comment - or respond by email or in person, or not. I was/am inconsistant about using it. Many times, the effort of trying to put things into words was more than i would do, so i just didn't.  Sometimes i would feel  that I was writing into a void, that he didn't really care whether i wrote or not. As often as not, i let things go unsaid that probably should have been said. 

I want my husband to know me, i want to tell him the thoughts I have, and how I feel, and what has occured to me.  What i am learning is that i also want to be able to control that message very tightly.  I want to craft it and spin it and shape the way it is presented.  I can do all of that in writing, not as well as people who actually write well- but moreso certainly than face to face or under cross examination. 

My husbands's strong preference is and has always been for face to face, real, old-fashioned, talking.  Second choice would be by phone - if we are apart. Fairly early in ttwd, he started to expect me to talk to him when he asked questions, he wouldn't allow me to blow him off, as i often had.  He also expected me to really talk to him on the phone, instead of multi-tasking or grunting one word answers.   Most recently, in response to my kinda wild meltdown, he started something new.  Each night, as we go to bed, I have to tell him one thing about my thinking about my submission, several things if he has been out of town.  It has to be truthful, significant, and something he didn't already know.   And this is hard, so much harder than I would have ever imagined. 

I am finding that, as I write, I think about  the composition, the syntax, the appearance of the thing, how I want the point to come out.  When I tell him something face to face, the internal dialog is also about how it will sound, how it might be interpreted.  But, being there in front of him creates another backtalk in my head that my intention may not have been exactly what I had thought.  That voice questions my motivation for the initial message as well as whatever spin i am trying to put on it, and then I have to expain that also. 

Above and beyond all those convolutions, the fact he is demanding this of me, that it is such a personal subject, and the fact that I don't already know how he feels about the topic, make me feel small, silly, vulnerable, at risk of rejection or ridicule, and very, very submissive.  It is working: I tell him things I should, rather than let them sink back down into the murky depths somewhere; I examine my feelings and motivations more honestly; it reassures me that he cares very much about what i think; and it reinforces or re-establishes our dynamic in a small way at the end of each day.